


if you wanted

by sapphirestylan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestylan/pseuds/sapphirestylan
Summary: “Niall,” Harry starts, and Niall hums in acknowledgement. “Did you know, I’ve contemplated becoming a hermit.”Niall peers down at Harry’s solemn face. “Are you drunk?”Harry narrows his eyes at him, mouth turned down in a pout. “No. I’m not. I’m being serious.”“Oh.”“Well?”“Huh? Oh- no, I didn’t know you thought of that.”





	if you wanted

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the 50 Drabbles about Niall and Harry collection! It was so so fun to write, hope you enjoy! :)

Niall isn’t surprised by much. He isn’t surprised to learn what new fitness regime Liam is on, or that Louis and Zayn are arguing again, or that Harry is considering becoming a vegan for the fourth time this week. He isn’t surprised when his phone dies within three hours after charging it, or that he’s run out of milk, or that his boss is angry with him again. All of these are near-daily experiences.

What he is surprised by, however, is coming home to Harry in the middle of his living room at midnight with his ass in the air.

“Harry?” He says slowly, the front door clicking behind him as it shuts. Harry lets out a startled yelp and falls out of position, collapsing on the carpet and staring up at Niall with a sheepish grin. He’s wearing those tiny yellow shorts again, the ones Niall insists are too small for him, and not much else.

“Hello.” Harry grins as nonchalantly as one can after being caught with their butt in the air, folding his hands neatly over his stomach. Niall shuffles over to stand next to his head. “Where were you?”

“I was _going_ to get wasted with Eoghan,” he mutters, staring down at Harry’s froggy face and his mop of hair. “But I got sick. Don’t think all the alcohol sat very well with me.”

Harry frowns, rolling over onto his side and patting Niall’s shoe sympathetically. “Are you okay?”

“M’ fine. Don’t think it’s anything serious.”

“It must be if you came home this early.”

“I’m fine, Harry,” Niall repeats, rolling his eyes at Harry’s motherly concern before plopping down beside him on the floor, yanking his shoes off, and throwing them in the general vicinity of the door. Both land upside down. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Louis and Liam are at it again,” Harry sighs, rolling onto his back. His curls flop down in his eyes and he tries to blow them away valiantly, puffing air at them to get them to move out of the way. Niall has pity on him after a few seconds and does it for him. “They kicked me out. You weren’t here so I just let myself in.” It’s somewhat of a regular occurence, Harry getting thrown out so Louis and Liam can have some alone time. Niall’s all too happy to let Harry stay the nights on those occasions. He’s also glad he doesn’t share his flat with anybody on the regular, so having a place to sleep every night is pretty much a given, unlike Harry.

He glances at the coffee table, where Harry’s laptop is still running a video of an overly spray-tanned woman stretching out her legs. “Doing yoga?” He hums, and Harry nods. 

“Very good for your body. You should do it with me sometime.”

Niall snorts and pokes at Harry’s cheek. “No way. I’ve got my old man knees, remember?”

“Right.” Harry rolls over again, this time smushing his face into Niall’s shin. “It’s a shame you’ve got such elderly joints.”

Niall shoves at his shoulders, laughing. “Sod off. As if you’re some yoga pro yourself.”

Harry’s face lights up at that, grinning widely. “Actually, do you want to see? I did this really hard one today, nearly broke my back, but it looks cool, see,” he babbles. “I’ve got to stretch a bit first, hold on-”

And, really, Niall should not be finding this attractive at all. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Harry nearly naked before. It’s just that Harry’s- well, he’s fit, and he’s tanned, and watching his muscles strain and flex, even if it’s to get in some ridiculous position that Niall is crying with laughter at, is...a lot.

He pushes those thoughts away though. Best mates don’t check each other out, and they certainly don’t stare at each other’s arses, even if they _are_ in tiny shorts (which Niall has definitely _not_ thought about ripping off with his teeth before. Ever.)

So Niall watches cautiously and with increasing concern for Harry’s safety as he lays down on his stomach and grabs his ankles, brow furrowed in concentration as he lifts his legs up from the ground, his chest coming with them, until he looks like-

“It’s called the bow pose,” Harry wheezes. “I’m not sure if it’s supposed to hurt this much.” And- he’s really tried not to laugh at Harry, but this- he can’t contain his laughter anymore. He bursts out cackling, flopping back on the ground and gasping for air, and Harry lets go of his ankles and collapses, flailing an arm out to whack Niall in the chest. “Not funny!” He whines, but Niall just keeps laughing.

Harry must take that as a challenge, because he throws himself bodily at him, knocking the air out of him and pinning him to the ground all at once, and then proceeds to tickle him, his stupid bony fingers jabbing at his ribs and his stomach till Niall’s crying and howling and begging for mercy.

Ten minutes later, the two of them are slumped on the couch, blearily watching Seinfeld instead on Harry’s whirring old laptop instead of attempting yoga and risking injury. Niall is sitting normally- like normal people _do_ , and Harry is sitting upside down, his head hanging off the couch next to Niall’s shins and his feet propped up by Niall’s head.

“Niall,” Harry starts, and Niall hums in acknowledgement. “Did you know, I’ve contemplated becoming a hermit.”

Niall peers down at Harry’s solemn face. “Are you drunk?”

Harry lifts his head up to look at him, narrowing his eyes, his mouth turned down in a pout. “No. I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“Oh.”

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh- no, I didn’t know you thought of that.”

“Well, I have.” Harry folds his hands over his chest very seriously, gaze flickering up to the ceiling as if he’s stargazing. “Feel like it’d be peaceful, not having anyone bother you.”

“You’d get lonely,” Niall points out, mouth twisting into a fond smile as he watches Harry consider the new information. He’s like a child, sometimes, the way his emotions are so openly displayed. It makes his heart clench unexpectedly inside his chest, watching Harry pinch his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes shining in the dim light.

“You’re right.” Harry agrees softly, his gaze alighting on Niall suddenly. “I’d take you with me.”

“Me?”

“Yes, silly. We’d both become hermits.”

“I’m fairly sure that defeats the purpose of being a hermit. You know- being completely _solitary_ and all that.”

“Whatever.”

“And where would you- where would we go, anyways?"

“Wherever.” Harry shrugs, his lighthouse-gaze still boring into Niall. “I’d go anywhere as long as you were with me.”

Niall’s heart skips at least three beats, a faint buzz running through his blood. The thing is, Harry says stuff like this a lot- sentimental without meaning to, without really wanting to make things sappy. Or maybe he does. Niall wishes he had the guts to tell him to stop, even though it’s not Harry’s fault that Niall’s so far gone for him that even stupid shit like what he just said will make his palms sweaty and his mind run wild with fantasies of Harry actually reciprocating his feelings.

But the silence is stretching too long, and if only to break it, Niall speaks. “Harry Edward Styles,” He gasps dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

Harry wriggles around on the couch, moving till his legs are draped across the length of it and his head is settled down in Niall’s lap. On instinct, Niall begins carding his fingers through Harry’s hair as he waits for a reply, trying to work out the tangles as gently as possible. “If you wanted.” Harry whispers, blinking his big green eyes up at him.

Niall snorts softly, not gracing him with an answer, and returns his attention to the episode still playing out on the laptop.

_If he wanted._

Silence settles the two of them in their places, even as Harry sits up (the right way) and scoots closer to Niall, even as Harry’s gaze doesn’t leave him for a second, even as Harry leans in a fraction, so close Niall can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath.

“Niall,” Harry whispers, and Niall doesn’t dare turn his head. He keeps his eyes resolutely on the screen, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. His heart is leaping in his chest, absolutely hammering at his ribcage, so loud he’s certain Harry can hear it.

He swallows. “If I wanted, huh?”

Harry huffs out a gentle laugh, pressing closer. “Yeah. If you wanted.”

The sane half of Niall’s brain is screaming at him to stay still, to laugh it off like a friend should, to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. The other half is shrieking that this is his chance, that this is Harry flirting if he ever saw it, that he may never have the opportunity again. Common sense argues back that maybe he’s reading it all wrong, Harry flirts with anybody he can get to, it’s just part of his personality, that if he kisses Harry now he’ll ruin the best friendship he’s ever had, and no kiss is worth losing that. No kiss is worth losing Harry.

Plus, Niall is a coward at best, so you can guess which side wins.

However- the decision isn’t entirely up to him, as he soon learns when Harry swings a leg over Niall’s lap, more graceful and smooth than he could ever imagine him to be, and straddles his lap, face not inches from his own.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry whispers, and Niall can feel the breath leave shakily from his lungs. He nods- barely, imperceptibly, slowly- and then Harry leans forward, mouth parted, and brushes his lips lightly against Niall. His eyes are still open, bright green and searching for reaction, for approval.

Niall can’t do anything but sit there, frozen, as Harry pushes forward with more intent, slotting his lips against his firmly, settling down on his lap. Every brush of their skin feels like a bolt of lightning racing along Niall’s spine, setting off firecrackers in his head and making his mind blur till he doesn’t know anything but the feeling. Harry’s thumb digs into his collarbone as he dips down, presses open-mouthed kisses to his jaw, the line of his neck, the hollow of his throat.

Finally, he comes back to his sense enough to push back, to tilt his head to give Harry better access, to rest his hands on his hips and squeeze until he groans breathlessly into Niall’s mouth.

Harry pulls away after what seems like an eternity of nothing but hushed whispers and slow, languid kissing, a wolfish grin on his lips as he slips off Niall’s lap, hand outstretched. He takes it, grinning right back while Harry leads them down the hallway towards his bedroom.

 

\---

 

Afterwards, with neither of them able to sleep, still full of pent-up energy even after a fuck that ended too quickly, they slip out onto the balcony. The sky is black, wisps of clouds passing over the sliver of moon that barely illuminates the city below. Inside, the alarm clock blinks _3:42 AM._

Harry settles into the wobbly plastic chair, patting his lap insistently till Niall sinks down, sighing contentedly when Harry kisses his pale, bare shoulder. And then keeps kissing it. Over and over, trailing up to his neck, until Niall pinches his thigh and he yelps, pulling away.

Niall twists around to kiss him properly, slowly, firmly, and when he turns away, Harry’s lips are kiss-bruised and a delicious shade of red.

“Would you really?” Harry whispers, as if not to disturb the stars. They wink above them, watchful and curious, and Niall doesn’t have to look hard to find them in Harry’s eyes too.

“Really what?” He loops an arm around Harry’s shoulders, fingertips tracing lightly over the dark ink there till goosebumps break out on his skin.

“Would you run away with me?”

He smiles, ducks down, and kisses him again. He doesn’t pull away by much afterwards, just enough for him to speak with his lips still brushing against Harry’s. 

“If you wanted.”


End file.
